


my heart's aflame.

by lannisnow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisnow/pseuds/lannisnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson is different. Very different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart's aflame.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before season two aired, so I went back and tried to make it as post-season-two as possible. Sorry for any inconsistencies.

  
**my heart's aflame.**   
_a jackson/danny teen wolf fic._   


Jackson is different. Very different.

When Danny’s on the field during practice, guarding his goal, Jackson charges up, playing as the other team, and chucks the ball straight into Danny’s chest. He falls to his knees.

“Watch it!” someone yells. Danny thinks it might be that Stilinski boy, it is the Stilinski boy, because just a second later he’s leaning over Danny with his hand on Danny’s shoulder and his mask in Danny’s mask.

“Let go, I’m fine.” He shrugs off the hand and pushes himself back up onto his feet. “I’m fine,” he reaffirms the sad-looking kid, smiling a little just to get the point across. Finstock is looking at him from across the field and catches Danny’s eyes.

“You okay, Danny?”

“Yeah.” He is, too. A little short of breath, his chest is probably gonna have a bruise, but he’s okay.

“Jackson, tone it down a little?” Finstock’s voice rings over the busy field. Danny looks up to see Jackson staring him down and-

Are his eyes that blue normally? He’s been friends with Jackson since before they could toddle around on a playground, and he’s never seen Jackson’s eyes _that_ blue. Maybe it was just the light, because they’re back to normal again, and Finstock’s calling practice over, telling them all to get their useless asses back in the locker room and go home.

Danny somehow manages to rip himself away from Jackson when someone grabs his arm and pulls him off the field, but he feels an urge to flee. To run. Fight-or-flight is kicking in and he’d much rather flight.

\---

Flight from Jackson?

He’s thinking about it, sitting on the bench and pulling on his socks after he’s showered and dressed back into his normal clothes.

There was this time a couple months ago, when Jackson was looking like he was so sick he was dying, that Danny felt like he needed to get out of the room. But since then, Jackson’s been better. He’s been great, actually, as far as Danny knows.

(Not to mention the most recent “ _He’s dead_ ” thing. Jackson miraculously recovering and showing up healthy as ever to school after summer break.)

But they aren’t talking. Not really. Drifting apart like teenagers do. Danny’s friends aren’t really Jackson’s friends, mostly because Danny’s all gay and the bigoted assholes Jackson calls friends in the first place don’t even really accept Danny.

But Jackson’s different.

Jackson is his best friend. Kind of more than that. Hell, through the entirety of middle school, Jackson was Danny’s wet dream every night.

Danny throws on his second sock, shoves his feet in his old, worn shoes, and grabs his lacrosse stick. His cell phone is a heavy weight on his thigh. He should text Jackson, maybe call him, or at least try to stop him before they he leaves the locker room. Some kind of joke about balls to his chest should break the ice enough for Danny to find out what’s wrong with his friend.

Of course, though, Jackson’s not in the room.

“Stilinski,” he says, grabbing the kid by the elbow to get his attention. God, the kid’s like a puppy perking up like it’s never been petted in its life. “Have you seen Jackson?”

“Hello, to you to,” Stilinski jokes, shit-eating grin on his face. “He was still on the field when I went inside. I think he was practicing his goals. Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” Danny lets go of Stilinski’s arm and heads for the exit. Still on the field. He’ll check that out, then head home. Maybe shoot out a text to his boyfriend and tell him he needs to cancel their plans for tonight. Jackson always comes first.

But, of course, he’s not on the field. Not on the bleachers, not behind them, not even in the parking lot. His porsche is still there, though. Jackson would never leave his porsche.

With this in mind, Danny reasons that Jackson must be in the locker room. He must have walked right past him without noticing. Danny could sit by Jackson’s car for a few minutes, see if he shows up.

It’s as good a plan as any, so Danny parks his ass right on the hood of the porsche and pulls out his phone.

He waits.

And waits.

No Jackson. Danny’s waited an hour and thirty five minutes and no Jackson. Alright, well, Danny has two options. One, get into his own car and go home. Two, pick the lock of Jackson’s car, hotwire it, and go home.

Option two it is.

It goes spectacularly smoothly.

When he gets home, Danny sees an empty driveway. His parents are working late, then. That’s good. Better to avoid the questions about the porsche if he can.

His bedroom is a little messy so he falls on his bed and pulls his phone out of his pocket. One text message. Not from Jackson.

So, he’ll go first.

**I’m holding your car hostage until you tell me why you’re acting like a dick.  
Sent: 7:54PM**

It’s almost eight. No wonder Danny’s eyes are stinging with exhaustion. He tucks his phone under his pillow and decides to get a little shut-eye until Jackson texts him back.

His phone never goes off, and at nine thirty, Danny rolls onto his side and sends another text.

**Are you okay?  
Sent: 9:32PM**

It’s not that he’s really worried. He could probably care less. But the last time Jackson didn’t answer him when he texted, it was because he was attacked by some giant mountain lion that had been terrorizing the whole town. That was a rough patch. Ever since then, maybe even before then, their friendship has been rocky.

**From: Jackson**  
Unlock your window.  
Received: 9:47PM 

Danny jumps up from his bed, rubbing his eyes open, and runs to his window. He slips the lock and slides it open, leaning out of it. “Window’s op-”

He’s pushed back as Jackson shoves his way in through the window-frame. “-En,” Danny finishes, a smile on his face. “I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“I told you not to hotwire my car. It’s worth more than your _house_.” Jackson snarls a bit, wrenching Danny’s phone from his hand and throwing it on his bed.

“Probably not,” Danny says, watching his phone skid against the comforter and slide under his pillow. “You didn’t care the last four times I did it.”

“I told you to stop.”

“And I didn’t. Are you okay?” Danny turns to look back at Jackson and sees his eyes, dark blue, like they usually are. Not the cobalt blue he’d seen earlier on the field. They’re familiar and warm, even if they are hard with anger. “Jackson?”

Jackson actually takes a step back, turning to look at the window again. Danny reaches out and grabs his forearm, shaking his head. “Hey, stay for dinner. I’ll order out and we can watch Hoosiers?”

Danny smiles. Jackson gives him a look, turns his eyes to the window again, but nods.

“Great. You gonna tell me what’s going on tonight?”

Jackson only glares. Danny takes the hint.

They eat in silence, Mexican takeout that was delivered by the time they started the movie and sat down on the couch. Danny grabs a beer from the fridge and gives it to Jackson, saying, “You look a little tense. Drink up.” He drinks sometimes, and his dad might give him a sour look or roll his eyes, but there hasn’t been too much trouble.

The silence only gets more obnoxious when they’re done eating and just watching the movie. Danny’s never found this movie boring, and it’s one of Jackson’s favorites, but they’re both twitching, fidgeting.

Danny’s never felt more confused in his life. Not even when he was beating off to Jackson’s picture in his yearbook in eighth grade.

He feels awkward and woozy from just _Jackson_. He didn’t have even a sip of beer, not even a whiff of alcohol, but he feels _drunk_.

“So, what happened at lacrosse today?” Danny tries, turning his head on the couch to look at his friend. He notices dark circles under Jackson’s eyes, the rip in the collar of his green t-shirt, the way Jackson’s hair flops in front of his eyes when the gel has run its course.

Things he’s noticed before, but never found quite as interesting as right now.

“I got competitive.”

“Yeah.” Danny chuckles a little. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Did it bruise?” Jackson turns and looks genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitting and mouth falling open like he wants to ask more questions. Danny grabs the collar of his own black t-shirt and pulls it down. A bruise is forming, kind of, but it’s small, about half the size of the actual ball.

“The pad helped block most of it,” Danny replies with a grin. He lets go of his shirt and it wrinkles back up to his neck. “I’ve taken bigger hits in the hallway at school.” Jackson’s lips tilt just a bit upwards and Danny’s eyes track them. Danny licks his own lips, pulls them in to worry between his teeth. Jackson is watching, an eyebrow hiking up his forehead.

It’s all or nothing, right? This is Jackson Whittemore, Best Friend and Wet Dream Inducer of the past seventeen years. Danny’s been single since... Too long, probably...

Yeah, it’s all or nothing.

Danny leans forward and stops himself an inch from Jackson’s lips. He looks up and sees that bright cobalt blue before Jackson’s eyes snap shut and he closes the distance without Danny’s help.

Fight or flight edges into his consciousness. He feels like he should be flinging himself into the nearest safe-room, locking himself away from the danger that is his best friend and really good kisser Jackson Whittemore. Danny sighs and reaches his hand up, running his palm over Jackson’s jaw, threading his fingers in Jackson’s blonde, floppy, sweat-soaked hair.

Jackson makes this grunt of a noise on Danny’s mouth, _into_ Danny’s mouth, that goes straight through him. He shakes and the adrenaline is kicking on in a way that makes him feel like there are sparks flying and fireworks blowing up and, no, he’s never felt this with anyone else. He’s never felt the urge to run and flee and _stay_ all at the same time. This is different, new, and when Jackson grabs Danny by his jaw and opens Danny’s mouth, he thinks, _Yeah. This is good_.

“Didn’t know you were into this,” Danny jests when Jackson pulls his lips away from Danny’s. Jackson makes that noise again and then there are teeth nibbling at Danny’s neck.

“Thought I wasn’t your type,” Jackson snaps back when his teeth lift from Danny’s skin. Danny shivers and tilts his head. He can feel his heart beating a million miles an hour, trying to prepare him for a massive sprint as far away from Jackson as possible. It makes his head ache, a little.

Blunt teeth turn sharp, pointed. That’s not normal. Danny opens his eyes. Jackson is pulling away, turning away, and suddenly that intense desire to _run_ is kicking in again because Jackson’s eyes are _glowing_ and his lips are pulled back and Danny can see a glint of long teeth.

“Jackson?” He reaches forward and tries to turn Jackson around.

“Don’t.”

Danny tries again, reaching and running his hand over Jackson’s shoulder. He must have a death wish, but he can’t stop himself. Seventeen years of friendship means that there’s something deeper than the fear. He wants to protect Jackson, keep him safe, make sure he’s alright.

When Jackson turns back around, there’s nothing wrong with him, but his eyes are wide and slightly terrified.

“You okay, now?” Danny asks with a breath of a laugh. Jackson’s head shakes no. It’s almost cheesy how Danny’s heart jumps up into his throat.

“Let’s finish the movie. Stay over tonight. You can have the guest room.” As far as Danny is concerned, it’s done. That’s it, end of conversation.

“Okay,” Jackson responds, and relaxes back into the couch.

Danny sits a bit closer, splays his legs so their knees are bumping.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Jackson. It’s the second time in their friendship that this has happened, that Jackson’s refused to tell him what’s wrong. That’s okay, though, Danny thinks. They all need to keep their secrets, right? They’re teenage boys with weird urges and hormones.

When Jackson wants Danny to know what’s wrong, he’ll tell him.

And, for now, they’ll go on with their lives and pretend what happened today never happened. Maybe they’ll get back to normal again one day, where Jackson doesn’t keep secrets and Danny doesn’t feel the urge to run away.


End file.
